Fate of a Wielder
by Coldfire323
Summary: xOneshotX For every new Keyblade master in the worlds, another one must die... Witness the heartbreak of a new wielder of the key, when she's forced to kill her own mysterious mentor, and save the worlds...


Author's Note: This was based on a dream I had. I very, very bad dream... (People who are waiting for chapters from my other story: don't kill me for typing this up. It was a dream I felt needed to be recorded.)

* * *

So, how many sores am I leaving with today? I thought grudgingly, the Kingdom Keyblade heavy in my hands. 

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the real thing- you know, an _actual_ fighting weapon- instead of the cheap imitation that anybody could use without it disappearing on you, but the thing sure weighed a lot when you're crawling up a steep hill. Many times I had tried stea-er, wielding the real thing, and every time I failed.

So anyway, like every other training day, I struggled to climb up the grassy hill without breaking too much of a sweat, since every body fluid was precious when you spared with a true Keyblade master. Don't get me wrong; my mentor was a nice guy and all, but I think he liked beating the crap out of me a little _too_ much. I've lost count how many times I slid off the crest of the hill down the gritty cliff below, screaming my head off until I landed with a cushioned 'thump' to the ground. Even from so far down I could here that man laughing at me. What a jackass. What a likeable, totally awesome jackass.

At last the top of the hill came in sight, where my mentor sat meditating on its summit. I breathed in to give a greeting, when his classic, old man voice beat me too it.

"You're late again."

"Yeah, well not all of us have that monkey Heartless blood in us." Oops. Note to self: Don't compare a Heartless slayer with a Heartless.

My mentor's tone lowered grimly. "Powerwilds, Jade. And might I remind you again that Heartless have no blood?"

"Sort of defeats the purpose of asking, doesn't it?"

By this time I had walked up beside him, and nervously noted the scowl lines creasing over his forehead. His odd colored eyes were narrowed, but it wasn't from the blooming sunrise. I was guessing that Heartless remark stung him, to be compared to such vile creatures he hated so. Years of pursing and being pursued by the Heartless can do that to a person.

I had never asked how old he was (didn't have the courage to), but once when I was a budding mathematician in my earlier years, I thought it sneaky to ask his age when he received the Keyblade, and how long he'd been fighting with it.

"The Keyblade chose me at such a young time in my life… Fifteen, I believe. As for the years, none of that matters as long as I'm still alive. Wouldn't you agree, you nosy little pest?"

Heh. It was worth a try.

Anyway, now that I've finished rambling, back to the story.

"Put down your weapon, Jade." He asked, his old bones cracking as he stood up to face me.

"Oh, so it qualifies as a weapon, now." That wasn't a question, but I loyally obeyed and threw the fake several yards away, out of reach. Before I had even turned back to my mentor expectantly, he'd lashed out with a snakelike hand and gripped my ankle in such a way that if I attempted to struggle, things would crack. A lot of things.

Instinctively, I reached out to my weapon, eyes squinted and teary with pain, but his hold on me kept me still. I looked down at him angrily.

"Isn't this supposed to be Keyblade combat training?" I snapped, staring into his twinkling eyes, bright with amusement.

"Yes."

"Um… Aren't Keyblades supposed to be involved, then?"

His face softened, and I only wished his fingers would do the same. Damndamndamn, this was reaally starting to sting.

"Jade… Despite the Keyblade's ability to come to its master's call, there will be times you still won't be able to use it." He said vaguely.

"Think you could gimme some examples, old man?" The fingers constricted tighter and I yelped in pain. In one smooth motion, he reached up with his free hand and held my hand in yet another painful grip.

"Say an enemy cleavers your hand off." His face was no longer one of hilarity. "Say a magic spell paralyzes your fingers. Say they break your arms like twigs so even when you have the weapon right in front of you, you're helpless to use it. Don't _ever_ overestimate the blade's power, you stupid, stupid child."

He released me like I was some sort of irritating germ, and I crawled away piteously, so as to prevent more hurt in both pride and flesh. Nothing snide about this came to mind. He was right. The blade could inflict so much pain… only if you were in condition to channel it.

"Listen… I'm sorry. You're right." I mumbled, abashed. I couldn't bring myself to look my mentor in the eye, instead focusing on the red finger marks over my ankle and wrist. He walked closer to me, and I cowered inside.

"Look at me, Jade."

"Umm..." Timidly, as if I expected him to smack me across the face like on those weird TV shows where the mean old sensei abuses his apprentice (I mean, who DOES that?), I looked up at him. A hand was offered to me, and he was smiling. Totally awesome jackass.

"Now, we're going to try this again. You must try to escape without using your arms, run over to your weapon, and then strike me with it." He explained, leading me back to our original spot.

"Got it." I said confidently, none too keen of him holding my tender ankle again. Thankfully, he took the other one instead and I smiled at him in silent gratitude.

And so, I twisted and turned, bit at his fingers till they bled, tried and failed to drag the stone of an elder to the cliff's edge. And he held on, a passive look on his wrinkled face. Occasionally, he would wrap his other hand around my ankle and swing me like a rag doll against the tree nearby, grinning spitefully at my screams and desperate attempts at reaching for the fake blade. Blood dripped from numerous shallow cuts over my body. I realized angrily that if I could use my hands, those wounds wouldn't be here. However, such an opportunity would gain me nothing but the pride of beating an old man until he released his hold on my ankle.

Damn... I thought,coughing to hide the moans of pain throbbing at my side. Those damn fingers...

Whenever I had trouble like this during a training session, voices of doubt would creep into my head. Today the million dollar question was: _Why are you even here?_

That's easy. I want to be a Keyblade master. I want to save the worlds. I pondered, while my conscious self tried aiming a kick at my mentor's head. I missed, and continued with the answer. I want to be as good as the King, Riku, and Sora were back when they were alive.

_And do you think the Keyblade would ever choose a sniveling smart assed teenager?_

Well... It chose my mentor, didn't it?

_True... but only because his heart was strong. Yours is weak. Now answer me again. Would the Keyblade ever choose you, Jade?_

My mentor was puzzled at the expression I gave him- clueless, confused, angry all rolled into one. So naturally, I looked like a retard.

_Well?_

I stared longingly at the fake Keyblade a small ways off, and my mentor followed my gaze. Face cold, I reached out to it, willing the weapon to reappear in my hands. Whether or not the thing came to me as the real thing or the fake weapon, I truly didn't care. I just wanted to succeed. I wanted to reach the next level of training, and take over with the tiresome life as a Keyblade wielder so my mentor could spend the rest of his life in ease. I wanted to make him proud.

The false Keyblade evaporated; at first I wasn't sure if my eyes had tricked me or not. But then- light. It materialized in front of my hand, licking at my skin like the gentle caress of the purest of angels. Solid material bloomed out of the light, automatically nestled neatly in my grasp. The heavy yet not heavy weight was perfect, as if balanced out by my physical strength and mass.

My eyes lit up in an indescribable happiness, and I brought the blade's broadside down over my mentor's arm. The release of pressure on my leg was both painful and joyful at the same time. So was the sickening crack I heard an instant after.

My mentor gave no noise as he cradled his broken arm. His icy eyes lay fixed from the Keyblade, to the wielder (_moi_), back to the Keyblade again. Nothing on his face gave away what he was thinking.

"Well, you never used your hands..." He trailed off.

"Yep."

"Our next training session is tomorrow, before full sunrise. Don't be late." He said lowly, turning his back on me. The man gave a dry chuckle. "If that's possible."

Without another word, I turned around and ran down the slope, just as the morning heat grazed over it with gentle fingers. Today I was one step closer to becoming a Keyblade master. Hell, you could already consider me one after this morning. The Keyblade had chosen me. It kicked so much ass on all levels of ass kicking history. I rocked.

"YES!"

oo00oo

For once in my entire life, I wasn't late for my next training session. Even the trek up the hill seemed less tiring, since my soaring spirit helped along the way. Instead of wondering how many sores I would leave with today, I wondered the opposite: How many sores would be on my crippled mentor's? It was a comforting thought that eight years of meeting with the guy had finally paid off.

Once at the top, I searched around for my mentor, and found him leaning against the lone tree over the hill in a sling. He watched what would be his last sunrise.

"You're...not late." He said slowly, turning my way and raising an eyebrow.

"Nope." With a broad smile, I held out my hand, summoning the Keyblade. I had practiced beckoning the blade last night, in preparation for our training this morning. The stern face I received dampened the proud feeling in my gut. "...Is something the matter?"

"Eight years, Jade... Eight years of tutoring you, and you can't even remember the first lesson." He growled, turning his gaze to the grass by his feet.

"That's not..." I began, but he cut me off with a slice of his hand.

"You wouldn't be as happy today if you remembered. That, or for all these years, the trips to the hospital when I was wounded, the gifts on holidays, these countless training sessions... were all for nothing.

"You were eight years old when I had slain those Heartless and saved your life that day. A happy, bouncy, care-free eight year old who wanted nothing more than to have a Keyblade of her own and save lives like I did.

"On our first day of training, I sat you down and told you something very important about all warriors of the Keyblade. Do you remember what I said?"

I shook my head numbly, suddenly feeling an instinctive fear coiling in my heart. Yes, my heart, not my stomach.

"'No matter how long it takes to train you, Jade, you can't become attached to me. ...Because for every new Keyblade wielder in the worlds, another one... must die.' The new wielder is commanded to impale the other's heart with a dagger of light."

"Huh..?" The world melted around us, leaving only the hill and the beautiful, beautiful sunrise. Tears burned from the corner of my eyes. "No! No, no, no! You're lying!"

He shook his head grimly, tears of his own forming in his oddly colored eyes.

"As long as the Keyblade still exists, there is trouble in the worlds, Jade. I would know more than anyone. Except Sora, of course." He took a deep breath, stepping away from the tree. The shape of a Keyblade, mine to be exact, stood emblazoned in the bark. "The fate of the worlds rests in your hands. It's time."

"I won't do it! I won't!" I screamed furiously at him, stamping my feet.

We both watched as the bark Keyblade twinkled at the tip, and formed a shadowy image of my mentor falling to the ground. It made me cry out in anguish just at the sight of what was to come.

"Don't be foolish. The Keyblade is useless unless I die." My mentor snarled, taking a step towards me. "Do it! Kill me, Jade!"

"NO!" I felt myself running up to my mentor, the blade dragging at the dirt, and held him in an embrace. I'd destroy the stupid thing if I had to. I wouldn't kill him. I wouldn't kill my mentor...

_You would let the worlds perish instead?_

"Shut up!" I screeched at myself, biting my tongue. "I can't! I won't!"

"Enough, Jade!" He yelled, striking my face with the back of his hand. Well, so much for that. "This is the last step to becoming a true Keyblade wielder. If you refuse to kill me, you refuse to finish the last training session of a student. The blade won't return to either of us. You will shame all Keyblade masters. You will shame your mentor."

I was silent, trying to wake up from this nightmare. My breath came in shuddery gasps.

"What will happen..?" I asked quietly, the words heavy on my tongue.

"I can still remember, although it may be different for what will happen to me. I didn't have a mentor like you, so the warrior that I saw, demanding I kill her with a key shaped weapon, I felt no remorse for when she died. My heart was clouded then, eroded by the darkness. I would have killed anybody for that blade. Even my best friend.

"I pierced her heart with the Keyblade, and her adult form faded away to reveal someone of my own age, a younger version of herself. I assume that was what she looked like when the Keyblade came to her. She looked at me in a way that chilled my heart when she saw the type of Keyblade I held.

"'The Keyblade can bring both wonder and ruin... Remember that, boy.' Was what she said... and then she died. I didn't understand what she meant until I made a mistake. A mistake I never planned to make again, to the day my student killed me."

"What was the mistake..?" I whispered, wracking my brains to picture a day my wise mentor fell for the tasty bait of the dark.

"Everyone knows it. Ask someone else in school, an older teacher maybe. You'll find out soon enough anyway." He gave me a wry smile, but it faded once the sun started to filter through some clouds, casting a light sheen over the Keyblade shape in the tree. "Now please, Jade. Kill me and save the worlds."

"I love you, old man."

"I love you too, you nosy little pest."

Forcing down hysterics, I backed away from him and brandished the Keyblade, until it faced his chest. A thin line of white light shot from the tip of it, stabbing my mentor through the heart and into the tree behind him. The force pushed him against it, into the searing picture of the Keyblade. His aqua eyes widened in pain and his mouth spread out in asilent scream, blood bubbling from the incredibly small wound over his breast.

And then, his old man appearance began falling away from him in wispy clouds of mist. His bald head sprouted long, silver hair, and his wrinkles morphed into smooth skin. Everything but his eyes changed, forever glowing an unnamable color. I shouted out in shock, eyes widened at the recognition of the teenager standing in front of me. I couldn't believe it. My own mentor, bleeding and dying was...

"...Riku?"

Riku dragged a weary gaze to his student, eyes glazed over. "Don't make the same mistakes I did, Jade..." His pained voice was so much more different, more youthful than the withering voice I'd heard only moments ago. "They live with you until the day you die."

Riku slowly closed his eyes, staggering to his knees and falling over, just as his apparition did in the form of an old man. The Keyblade's outline behind him was filled with his blood, not a drop spilling over and dropping to the ground. The tree seemed to suck up the liquid, and very gradually, the Keyblade drawing faded away.

I stood over my mentor's childhood body for a few moments more, grieving and wiping fresh tears from my eyes. I had been tutored the ways of a Keyblade wielder from one of the best –and worst- in history.

Bowing my head, I brought the Keyblade close to my chest, directly over my beating heart.

It was time to save the worlds.


End file.
